Now or Never
by Jubalii
Summary: Eve feels the need to properly thank Zacharias for his less than stellar birthday present. In fact, she hasn't been able to get it out of her mind.


It was now or never. Five minutes passed. Now or never. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Now… or never.

Never was becoming a very real option, but she still couldn't force her legs into motion.

"G'morning, Miss Eve!" Whistling cheerfully, keys to the steamroller already jingling merrily in his hands, he passed her. Never. It was never.

"Z-Zacharias, wait!" Or maybe now. He turned, lips still pursed in a whistle that died away to silence. "Erm, um— can I speak with you a moment?" He considered her before stuffing the keys deep into the pocket of his pants with a sharp, nearly violent motion. His other hand followed in his opposite pocket as he twirled on his heel, walking back in her direction.

"Of course." He stood before her, all smiles and easiness. Whatever it was that possessed him to stand and stammer in their office the day before was long gone, it seemed. She licked her lips, tasting remaining sweetness from her pastry breakfast. _Now or never, Eve._ "Is… something the matter?"

"Yes. No, I mean no." She twisted the pendant wrapped around her wrist, the broken, bloodstained strap digging into her flesh. "Nothing of great importance. T-that is," she continued quickly, seeing his jaw twitch at the words, "I merely wanted to th-thank you for… for my present."

"Hmm?" His head tilted to the side, a mirror image of the little white puffball he dared to call a dog. "You thanked me yesterday, Miss Eve. Do you not recall?" His gaze grew wistful. "Perhaps the striking awe of your victorious stance drove it from your mind. I wouldn't be surprised if it were so."

"D-don't remind me!" She rubbed her neck self-consciously, blushing hard at the memory of her puzzle-solving performance. "You'd best drive that from your mind. I know I have."

"I cannot." His gaze softened to a gentler expression she was used to having directed at her. She still hadn't found out what it meant exactly—a part of her was almost afraid to dig deeper—but there was something lingering from the day before, much like the intricate flavors of his gift. Enough to keep her up until nearly dawn with uneasy thoughts and half-hopeful musings. "It is seared into me for life, a personal reminder of my E—er, _Miss_ Eve's greatness." His hand clapped over his heart, as if trying to keep the memory settled there.

"That's not the point!" she huffed, more embarrassed than annoyed. "I know what I said yesterday, but… the more I thought it over, the more I realized that I'd spoken in the moment."

"What do you mean?" One hand snuck from his pocket to scratch at his jaw. She stared at the faint mark his nails left behind in the flawless skin, swallowing hard.

"Looking back, I sounded almost… unhappy with it. Let me assure you that it was not so, I—I was merely caught off guard." She looked down at her nails, picking at a loose cuticle. "I hadn't expected a gift from you. And, erm… it was callous of me to pretend to be unflattered by—you tried your best, Zacharias. I know you did, and Espella told me later about how hard you've been working at the bakery all these months, and I just felt that you deserved _proper_ thanks from me. So… again, I thank you."

"Don't worry about it." She looked up in surprise to see him giving her a sweet half-grin that crinkled his nose and made him look no older than little Cecil. She pressed her lips together, uncertain as to why the expression made her limbs weak and her stomach warm.

"But I—" He stopped her with a dismissive wave.

"As I said yesterday, seeing you smile was reward enough for me." He shrugged. "Perhaps, despite what Ms. Primstone said, 'tis important to offer a gift on the day of a friend's birth. It signifies that I am happy you were born."

"F-friend? We're… friends?" Even after a full year of working together as equals, neither of them had said that word. Were they really—was that what it was? Was this the gift of a friend on her birthday?

"Of course we're friends!" He actually looked offended. "If you call Sir Top Hat and his crew members of your close acquaintance… surely I rank above the Blue Defender."

"No, you're right. You're right up there with Espella," she assured him.

"Perhaps even _higher_ than Espella?" he prompted with a laugh. "I jest," he added, when she merely stared. "Of course the bosom companion of your youth would outrank someone like me." He turned to go. "In any case, happy day of your birth… yester-day, that is."

"W-wait!" It was still there, twisting and squirming like an earthworm driven to air by the rain. _We are friends._ But… why then? Why did his smile make her so warm? And why was he in her head? None of the others caused such unrest with their gifts. Espella, Luke, Maya, Mr. Wright—even Professor Layton's puzzle was a better gift on the whole. But why did her heart quicken at the thought of that ugly, misshapen lump of an éclair? Why did every bite of it solidify his face in her mind, the scowl of his apparent anxiety, the wrinkled brow of hope as he'd watched her untie the messily wrapped package, the determined grin as he drew his sword—on her, of all people!—and declared her to look most like _this_ excuse of an éclair!? It ought to have made her angry, upset at the least, and yet… she'd eaten it with relish. Why? _Why_?!

 _Because it was from him._

The answer was as much of a riddle as the questions, even though she knew it to be the correct one.

"Hmm?" He turned back again, this time looking uncomfortable. "Is there… something _else_ you wished to speak about?"

"No, it's just when I meant proper thanks, I meant—" It was now or never, but she was frozen in place once more. _By the Story, if I stay in place an hour the same way he did…. But he's not as patient as I am._

"Miss Eve?" It was her name that spurred her to action. _I won't be like him, not after berating him for it yesterday. And in front of the others, at that._ She stepped forward, rising on the tips of her toes and steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder. Her lips met the corner of his, more on his cheek than his mouth, for a fleeting moment before she pulled away. _I missed! Damn it all, how can I miss when he wasn't even moving!_ Her heart thundered in a panic. _H-he isn't doing anything? Why isn't he doing anything?_

He stared down at her unfathomably, mouth slack in a little frown. She'd have thought he'd shut down, or frozen, if it weren't for the gears clearly moving and visible in the strange glimmer of his eyes. He seemed… pensive, for lack of a better word. _No, this is wrong. I shouldn't have—oh damn, now I've messed it up._ She backed away, hand jerking from his shoulder as though burned.

"S-sorry, I'm—I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." Confused, mortified, ashamed; adjectives didn't seem strong enough to convey the blizzard of emotion storming in her. She backed away, turning to hide her face before she did something utterly humiliating, like cry. "I'll just go and… l-look at the blueprints now."

His hand caught her wrist. She jumped, if only for the surprise of skin against skin. She was used to wearing her gloves, or feeling at the cool rivets of his armored gauntlet against her hand. Not his own fingers, calloused and rough. She glanced back over her shoulder, startled, and felt her limbs stiffen involuntarily as he tugged her back into place. Still holding her tight, as if afraid she might bolt should he let go, his other hand rose to brush back the curl from her face.

"Um." He never was the most articulate of people, but for once she had no trouble understanding him as he bent down, angling her face up to brush their mouths together properly. She felt her muscles relax as he kissed her, and found herself waiting for the all-encompassing feeling that she'd read about. His hand was warm against her cheek, breath tickling her face, lips softer than she'd imagined them. He pulled back and the tingling in her face fell down to her chest, then her stomach, expanding with little pops, tiny explosions in a bonfire.

"O-oh." He seemed to have stolen what little vocabulary she had. He licked his lips, tongue working in his cheek and brows rising.

"You… erm… taste like… éclair." She watched with fascination as his cheeks flushed, spreading down towards his neck. "You ate it?"

"Of course." Their breaths mingled and she felt a shiver run up her spine, bringing another wave of heat. He wasn't pulling away, but… neither was she. "I meant what I said."

"Well, yes… ahem." His gaze moved to her lips and back. "'T-tis just occurred to me that perhaps I would not like to be friends with you forever."

"You don't want to be my friend?" She knew what he meant, but her own head was all jumbled and she needed him to just say it outright, for both their sakes.

"Nnng, well… I would think that you had positions _above_ friendship that are… hopefully vacant."

"Such as?"

"Ah, erm. I would think, suitor?"

"Suitor?"

"Swain? Beau? Sweetheart?"

"You want to court me?"

"Yes, that is…" To her surprise, his face managed to darken further, until she thought she could feel the heat of his blush. "I should like to take you out sometime, i-if you were willing, of course."

" _I_ kissed _you_ first, and you have to ask if I'm willing?" He did pull away at that, running his fingers through his hair and mussing the already flyaway locks.

"Forgive me, but a part of me is thinking this is all a dream, from which I'll awaken the moment you say you'd like to be mine." With him not so close she could breathe a little, her head clearing enough for her to raise one finger in a teasing smirk.

"You admit to dreaming of me, then?" A nervous chuckle was her answer, his eyes flitting around the room before landing on her once more. "Well, at the relative expense of you waking up, I—I think should not be adverse to it."

"M-maybe even this evening? Are you free? If you are, we might… erm… um…" He trailed off, looking at her helplessly.

"I think dinner is often a safe choice."

"Right, of course! At the—oh, not at the tavern. The others can get rowdy on the weekends." He fidgeted. "Do you like seafood? The fishmonger's daughter has opened up that restaurant by the dock. I've heard on good authority that 'tis fine fare."

"That sounds fine." The Courthouse door opened with a rattle, a group of construction workers filtering by loudly and ignoring them as they walked in the direction of the dungeons, where the larger tools were kept. She waited until they had passed before speaking again. "I should—I should go and get those blueprints." She took a hesitant step towards their office. "I'll be out soon."

"Ah, okay!" He beamed at her, fists bunching and swinging as a look of glee crossed over him. "Sure!" Resuming his whistle, he pulled the keys from his pocket and twirled them on his finger, ad-libbing a little skip in his step and nearly running headfirst into the door when he tripped. He looked furtively to see if she'd noticed, waving nervously before backing out the door. She heard him trip again on the outer steps; she shook her head, putting a hand over her mouth and feeling the tiny smile pulling at her lips.

 _I guess it_ _ **was**_ _now after all. Perfect timing._

* * *

 **Afterword:** My last little oneshot made me suffer too much, so I had to bring in some fluff to counterbalance. Hopefully it was a fun time.


End file.
